


Hidden Depths

by iola17



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Domestic, Episode: s07e03 Home Sweet Home, Established Relationship, Friendship, Humor, Husbands, M/M, Married Life, Moving In Together, New house, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28810194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iola17/pseuds/iola17
Summary: The paperwork's been signed, the keys picked up and David and Patrick are days away from moving into their new home when they finally see what's behind that locked basement door. It's going to take a village to work this one out; luckily they have a stream of very hands-on ("Read: Interfering" - David Rose) neighbours.... Except Stevie. She's only helping under coercion. And because there might be wine.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 28
Kudos: 92
Collections: Schitt's Creek Season 7





	1. The Discovery

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCSeason7](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCSeason7) collection. 



> Written for **Prompt:**
> 
> 7x03 - Home Sweet Home
> 
> The previous owners finished the basement and turned it into a very heteronormative man cave befitting a 65 year old retiree. How do David and Patrick make this space their own for lounging, parties, game nights, and smutty nights alone over the course of their marriage?

Patrick stands at the open kitchen door of the cottage, looking out at the garden that is officially all theirs. The offer’s been accepted, the contract signed, keys picked up. Moving in day isn’t until the weekend (unfortunately the store’s opening times, Stevie’s work schedule and the availability of Roland’s truck have made it somewhat difficult to arrange) but they can survive a few more days in the motel.

It isn’t a perfect solution. Since Patrick’s lease had expired a couple of weeks earlier they’d had to move into David’s parents’ old room, an event that David hadn’t been too enthusiastic about ( _“Do you know what I saw them doing there, Patrick?! There isn’t enough alcohol in the world to erase that image!”_ ) It had taken Stevie to jump in and point out that the only options available were the mattress his parents had slept on, the one Roland and Jocelyn had spent countless nights on, or squeezing two grown men into a twin bed within arm’s reach of Alexis before he’d accepted his parents’ old room as the best choice.

This had meant they were only a door away from Alexis, but in an incredible display of tact she had not mentioned anything she may have overheard and on a few occasions had found excuses to stay at Twyla’s overnight to give them a little more privacy. Alexis had left for New York a few days earlier in an emotional whirlwind of hugs and tears and the room next door had been vacant ever since. Patrick suspects Stevie is leaving it empty as long as possible, not yet ready to fully face the end of the Rose siblings in room seven. It’s a decision Patrick is grateful for and he thinks David is too. It’s bound to happen eventually but someone else taking over David and Alexis’ room is sure to stir up complicated emotions.

And when Patrick and David move into this house it will be the end of the Roses’ long-term occupancy in the motel altogether. Bittersweet indeed.

Still, it would be nice to have their own space again.

A smile tugs at Patrick’s lips as his gaze skims over the grass, picturing a rustic wooden table, complete with side-by-side garden chairs for him and his husband to relax on at the end of the day. Maybe they could start a vegetable patch in the back corner - his mother has quite the green thumb and Patrick’s sure Marcy would be more than willing to offer advice.

His eyes drift over to the left and he bites his lips as he considers the shed at the far end. Even from here, he can see where the wood on the roof is rotting in places and judging by the rough look of the door, they’ll get splinters as soon as they touch it. It will have to go or be replaced; he’ll ask David what he prefers.

“Oh, holy _fuck!_ ”

Speaking of his husband…

Upon hearing David’s cry from somewhere deep in the house, Patrick turns on his heel, rushing towards David and whatever has put that alarmed tone in his voice. He narrowly avoids knocking his shin on one of the high kitchen stools lined up against the granite island but barrels on, panic itching at his insides as he races to get to David.

The exclamation had come from down the hallway and as he runs out of the kitchen, Patrick spots his new husband standing before the open door leading to the basement, hands clapped to his cheeks as he stares down the steps at something Patrick can’t see from this angle. The look on David’s face is a mixture of horror and utter disdain which, while not an _ideal_ expression for Patrick’s husband of just over a month to be sporting, at least he isn’t visibly hurt or bleeding and Patrick’s heart rate slows.

“What is it?” he asks and David’s head whips around to stare at him, eyes aghast. “Are you alright?”

“Did you know about this?”

One shaking hand points down into the basement and a sense of foreboding snakes its way up Patrick’s spine as he forces his feet down the hallway towards David.

It hits him suddenly that somehow neither of them have ever seen the inside of the basement. It’s always been locked and Patrick never questioned it, caught up in the romance of securing David’s dream home, the excitement of having a place to live that is fully _theirs_ , together.

Now the fact that he didn’t insist on seeing every square inch of the house before signing anything seems like an unforgivable oversight.

Patrick braces himself for what he’s about to see, mind conjuring possibilities about what is behind the closed door that he’s never considered before. Secret burial ground? Cult headquarters? A printing press surrounded by piles of counterfeit cash? But surely the Hendersons would have taken everything incriminating with them and as caught up as Patrick was by the idea of owning a home with David, he’s sure he would have noticed the word ‘cemetery’ cropping up in the paperwork.

When he finally catches a glimpse of the inside of the basement, the relief is so great that he bursts out laughing, drawing an indignant sound from David.

“Sorry,” Patrick manages between chuckles, putting a hand on David’s shoulder. “It’s just… you scared me.”

“Excuse me?” David says, head whipping back and forth between Patrick and the basement. “What about this is _not_ horrifying?”

“David, I had visions of the police coming to cordon off the property, us losing the house. This is…” he waves a hand down the stairs. “Not that bad.”

“It’s _awful,_ ” David protests and waves something Patrick hadn’t noticed in his left hand. “Have you seen this?”

‘This’ is a folded sheet of paper with a roughly torn off strip of tape on the upper edge dotted with flecks of white paint where it has been stuck to the door. David brandishes it in Patrick’s direction but doesn’t seem inclined to tell him what is on it. His attention has returned to the basement so Patrick gently takes the paper from him, opening it out to read the message.

It’s written in black ballpoint, the large block script covering most of the page and the author has pressed so heavily down with the pen that Patrick can feel the imprint of the letters on the reverse of the paper as he holds it. It reads:

  
Welcome to your new home!

We hope you love living here as much as we did. And if you ever need a room to escape the old ‘ball-and-chain’, here’s one all ready for you! Please accept it as our gift to the new owners of our beloved home.

Stephen and Margaret Henderson

“‘Ball-and-chain’?” Patrick muses after reading the note through. “That’s romantic.”

David gives a small huff of something which, if not quite amusement yet, at least lets Patrick know he’s on the way out of his paralysed disgust.

“Mmm. Thinly veiled resentful pet names are…” he breaks off, looking to the ceiling to find the right word.

“Incorrect?” Patrick guesses.

“Very.”

“I’ll bear that in mind if I ever get the urge to compare you to any medieval imprisonment devices. Don’t think I’ll ever want to though.” Patrick squeezes David’s shoulder before stepping forward into the basement. “Come on then. I guess we should inspect the damage.”

“Do we have to? It’s bad enough from here.”

Patrick can almost feel David's shudder sending waves against his back even as he follows Patrick down the stairs into the basement.

From the top of the stairs, the most Patrick could see was that it was… well, _garish_ is the only word he can really think of to describe it but the further he descends, the more he can see that will offend David’s tastes. Even Patrick, who has safely chosen blue on blue as a colour scheme for most of his life, secure in the conviction that the shades will not contrast with each other, finds it easy to see that the whole basement is a maelstrom of clashing colours and styles. He can only imagine David’s horror.

Then he turns at the foot of the stairs and no longer needs to imagine David’s wide-eyed shock as he stares around at their surroundings. He is a little proud of how well he knows his husband - the picture he had in his head is pretty close to David’s actual expression.

They’re standing in what Patrick supposes would be called a ‘man cave.’ If the note upstairs hadn’t been enough to tip him off, the oversized neon sign on the wall reading ‘ _Boy’s Club_ ’ which lights up in green cursive when Patrick leans over to flips the switch underneath it would confirm it.

As well as the neon sign, two hanging lamps positioned at either end of the room cast enough light over the rest of the space to fully take in their surroundings.

There seems to have been little enough care put into cohesion and Patrick knows David’s inner sensibilities are screaming at him when he notices his husband’s eyes catch on the mismatched lamp shades – one canary yellow, one blue with white spots - on the ceiling before drifting down to a cracked leather recliner with what appears to be actual _tape_ covering a rip in the arm. The sofa beside the recliner features a geometric triangle print and is crafted of a fabric that Patrick would hazard a guess is distressed more by age than by any intention of the designer.

In front of the sofa is a coffee table that might have been nice once, had not whichever Henderson used this room (considering the sign on the wall, Patrick guesses it would be Stephen) been apparently fundamentally opposed to coasters. It also looks like he’d taken the unusual design decision to dot the table with price stickers peeled off fruit, books, and other assorted items rather than walk over and deposit them in the wastepaper basket where they belong.

The wallpaper is outdated and the best thing that can be said for it is that the bright red and purple colours have faded a little over time. There’s a lighter rectangle halfway up the wall where a television was once mounted (clearly the older couple’s generosity in gifting them this room and its contents did not stretch to leaving behind their more up to date electronics.)

There does seem to be one electronic device left behind, however. In the back corner there is a bulky arcade machine that at first glance seems to be a pinball machine. If so, it is not one that has been popular in the last twenty years if the run-down condition and the prominence of cartoon characters from the nineties on the bodywork is any indication. Patrick would be incredibly surprised if it still worked.

His view of the machine is partially hidden by a mostly empty light pine shelving unit, the colour at odds with the dark oak flooring and the black leather of the recliner. At one time, judging by the dust patterns, Patrick thinks the unit mainly contained books but they have been removed leaving it looking forlorn and abandoned. All that remains on the shelves is a clunky metal vase, a cracked mug declaring ‘ _Biology grows on you’_ repurposed as a pen holder, an overlooked copy of _‘Fifty Years a Fisherman’_ and what appears to be a stuffed squirrel. Patrick spares a moment to hope it was bought or inherited rather than face the possibility that amateur taxidermy was a hobby of the Hendersons and there might be more stuffed animals hidden around their new home.

Throughout the room there is a slightly stale smell; a mixture of must and traces of greasy takeaway food emanating from the sofa and the threadbare rug underfoot. Patrick gives a cursory glance around at the walls but as expected there are no windows to air out the place.

The whole room has a run-down, neglected air, populated with mismatched furniture but without any cohesive decorative scheme to tie it together. From Patrick's point of view it could be worse. He can't say that inheriting an unwanted man cave was ever on his wish list but at least it's not illegal. For David, on the other hand, whose intrinsic sense of what is correct and incorrect is so much stronger... Patrick eyes him warily, not entirely sure how David is going to react to the full picture.

“It could be worse,” he offers, several long moments later when it appears David isn’t going to speak.

David’s arms are folded tight across his chest, as if trying to keep himself contained and avoid any possibility of brushing against the low-quality furnishings. David nods absently, eyes still shooting from place to place, not settling in any one spot before dashing off again to alight on a new poor interior design choice.

“A gift,” he murmurs under his breath before he scoffs lightly, now staring at the broken pinball machine with disdain. Patrick recognises he’s echoing the letter and nods his head in acknowledgement.

“I think it’s far more likely they just realised it wouldn’t be worth their while carting it all out of here,” Patrick says before his mother’s voice in his head chimes in that he’s being uncharitable. “I suppose it can’t have been easy getting all this _down_ the stairs, it would be nearly impossible for two retirees to carry all this back _up_.”

David gives him a pointed look. “But you think we’ll manage just fine?”

…Oh.

Patrick rubs at the back of his neck and looks around the room again, mentally calculating angles and weights and the staircase which now appears remarkably narrow and steep.

David has a good point.


	2. Moving Day

“I don’t understand. You don’t want your own ‘ _Boy’s Club_ ’ sign?” Stevie smirks at David as she stands underneath the neon monstrosity, gesturing like an overly cheerful assistant from a daytime game show. “It’s so you.”

David glares at her. “I can change my mind about letting you help.”

“Oh, is that what you’re letting me do?”

“We really appreciate it, Stevie,” Patrick interjects, and gives another fruitless attempt at pressing the power switch at the side of the pinball machine. It remains unlit and lifeless so he crouches down once more to inspect the plug.

“What are you doing?” he hears David ask as he ducks his head underneath the metal body of the machine to peer at the wiring.

“Just seeing if I can make it work.”

“Why?”

Patrick shrugs as he wiggles the plug before realising David can’t see him. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t want to keep it do you?” David’s voice pitches in alarm and Patrick can hear the trepidation in his voice as well as Stevie’s poorly concealed snort. He stands up and toggles the switch again – still dead – before turning to look at them both.

Stevie is leaning against the wall beside the neon sign, the green light casting an eerie glow over her face, lending her a slightly spooky look not helped by the gleeful grin plastered across her features. David is regarding him with a careful expression and affection blooms in Patrick’s chest when he considers that if he said yes, David would try his hardest to hide his disgust and let him have what he wanted.

He briefly toys with the idea of nodding, just to see what contortions David’s face makes before he manages to school his features. He quickly dismisses the thought. Today is going to be stressful enough.

“No. Just seemed a shame for it to be broken. Someone else might have wanted it and we could have offered it as payment for anyone willing to get it out of here.”

Stevie’s eyebrow lifts and, while it’s hard to tell underneath the cool demeanour, Patrick thinks she’s impressed.

“Not a bad idea, Brewer. Could use some of that business brain for the next Rosebudd Motel Group pitch. It’d cancel out me and Roland.” She looks down, a moment of vulnerability as she fiddles with her cuff.

“Hey, you’re doing amazing, you know,” David tells her quietly, holding her gaze steadily when she looks up at him.

Wanting to give them a minute, Patrick pretends to study the paddle button on the pinball machine, rubs his thumb over the raised circle, so stiffened by age that it can no longer be pressed in. David mutters something else, Patrick catches Roland’s name and Stevie’s little laugh before she murmurs a thank you in reply. David clears his throat before raising his voice to a normal volume again, the two friends apparently having reached their quota for sincerity for the time being.

“Anyway, before you ask Patrick for his advice, you should know his consulting skills don’t come cheap,” David teases and Patrick looks over to see his husband’s eyes glittering at him. “Not sure you could afford it. I took him on and had to marry him in the end.”

“Oh, you had to, did you?” Patrick challenges, stepping away from the broken machine and walking over to David. Stevie groans as Patrick loops his arms around David’s middle and looks up into his beautiful face.

“Yes,” David agrees as his arms find their place around Patrick’s neck and he bends forwards to touch their foreheads together. “I had to.”

With that, Patrick has no choice but to lean in to meet his lips.

“So glad I’m here for this,” Stevie says from somewhere behind them while David’s hand finds its way to the back of Patrick’s head, holding him gently as they kiss. “It’s not weird at all to stand and watch you guys make out.”

David laughs into Patrick’s mouth and breaks away to look at her. Patrick is reluctant to let him go and tightens his hold on David’s waist, burying his face into David’s shoulder and inhaling happily.

David’s familiar cedar cologne washes over Patrick along with a rush of love and, not for the first time, he can’t quite believe how lucky he is. Who would have guessed that a spur-of-the-moment decision to answer an ad he spotted out of the corner of his eye would turn out to be one of the best choices he ever made? It led him to Schitt’s Creek where he could cross paths with David Rose and he will be grateful for that for the rest of his life.

“You don’t have to watch,” David tells Stevie over his shoulder, breaking Patrick from his thoughts.

“You literally invited me here.”

As she’s talking, she walks behind Patrick and, deciding it’s better to put some space between himself and his husband, Patrick forces himself to step away from David with one last squeeze to his waist.

Moving away from him is like that first unpleasant step out of a warm shower into an icy bathroom; he immediately regrets it and wants to return to David’s embrace, especially when he sees David’s hands reflexively reach out for him. Instead, Patrick makes himself take another step away, promising himself he’ll make it up to them both when they have a little more privacy.

Stevie walks over to the sofa and collapses onto it, sending up a tiny plume of dust flying up from the fabric. David inhales sharply but Stevie doesn’t seem to notice either the noise or the dust particles dancing around her in the dim light of the basement. Instead she leans back, craning her head to look around the space.

“You’re really getting rid of all this stuff?”

“Yep. It’s free if you see anything you like,” Patrick says.

“Just know I’ll judge you if you take any of it,” David chimes in, skirting a wide circle around Stevie and the offending couch to scoop his phone up from the coffee table before stepping back to a safe distance.

“Wouldn’t expect anything different from you,” Stevie says. She leans forward to peer at the stickers on the table. “But what if one day you want to know how much the previous owners paid _Bill’s Bargain Books_ over the years?”

“I think we’ll survive without that life-changing information,” David says before frowning at his phone. “Patrick, what time did you say Roland was coming with the truck?”

Patrick checks his watch. “Twenty minutes ago.”

“Oh good, that means we have at least another twenty before he shows,” Stevie says, tilting her head back against the back of the sofa and closing her eyes. “I need a little more time to prepare. He’s read something about treetop hotels and spent three hours in the office yesterday trying to convince me that a luxury suite in the tree behind the motel would be very popular and that we could build it ourselves.”

David groans and turns plaintive eyes to his husband. “Why couldn’t we borrow the truck without having Roland involved?”

“He insisted. Apparently the Rose family has a history of either mistreating his truck or running away with it. Between his experiences with you and your dad, Roland said he’d rather be the one in the driver’s seat. Anyway, it’s another set of hands, David.”

David purses his lips but capitulates. “Fine.”

Stevie, eyes still closed, holds her hands up and waves them like jazz hands.

“And what are these? You already roped me into this, how many hands do you need?”

“As my best friend, you have no choice,” David tells her. “But you don’t have a truck. Your car is an _excellent_ example of a science fair experiment that got out of hand but it won’t fit a refrigerator.”

“Don’t badmouth my car. I’ve still got the boxes with your clothes from the motel in there and there’s still time for some of it to go missing. Now I think about it, some of the padding on the passenger seat has fallen out, maybe one of your sweaters would be up to the job? You wouldn’t miss one, right?”

“You think I don’t know exactly what’s in those boxes if anything vanishes? If you ever want to borrow those clothes again, don’t even think about it.”

Stevie smirks at him, tilting her head as if considering and David glares at her.

Patrick looks towards the stairs as his ears pick up the sound of the doorbell. “I think your reprieve is over, Stevie,” he says before she and David can descend into further bickering.

Before Patrick is even up the stairs, someone is leaning on the doorbell impatiently without letting go, filling the house with an unending shrill tone that has Patrick wincing as he swings open the front door.

As expected, it’s Roland. After a brief greeting and Roland offering an apology for his lateness which contains more information about his son’s morning bowel movements than Patrick would like, Patrick leads him down to the basement where David and Stevie are waiting.

The moment Roland steps into the basement he stops, staring around in delight.

“Wow. You guys really lucked out, huh? Why would you want to get rid of this stuff?”

“Because it’s trash?” David suggests but Roland doesn’t seem to hear.

“It’s great! Why not keep it like this, make it a rec room for your friends? Could do with a place to come and hang when Joce and me get into a fight.”

David’s eyebrows rise in alarm and Patrick himself feels a flutter of dread in his stomach. He’s heard about the times Roland’s sought shelter in the motel and has no desire to witness the spectacle in his own basement. He clears his throat awkwardly.

“Actually Roland, David and I have plans for this space-” a lie but they’ll think of something later. “Not that we wouldn’t love to have you over now and then.”

“Would we?” David mutters under his breath but Patrick pushes on.

“And we are a little out of the way to be housing a community rec room but if you see something you like…” he trails off, hoping desperately that Roland will take this opportunity to acquire some free furniture.

Sure enough, Roland casts his eyes around with renewed interest, landing on the pinball machine. “Ooh Stevie, what about this baby for the motel?”

“It’s broken, Roland.”

“That doesn’t matter! I’m sure I can get a guy to fix it up. And if he can’t, it could be a great conversation starter as guests are checking in.”

“As much as I love anything that invites conversation,” she says dryly. “Are you sure you wouldn’t just rather take it home with you?”

“Nah. Can you imagine? Joce would kill me. She hates anything like that and most of our place is taken up with Roland Jr’s things. He needs so much more stuff than I remember. I told Jocelyn, we didn’t bother with babyproofing and stair gates with Mutt and he only fell down the stairs twice. Kids are resilient.”

There’s a slight pause, no one being too sure what to do with this information and no one being willing to inadvertently fall into the trap of a debate on babyproofing with Roland. He’s stubborn when he wants to be (Patrick has had more than one argument with him at the store about a ‘50% Mayor’s discount’ and David has told him about the incident with the doors at the motel) and as none of other three have any first-hand knowledge of children, this seems like a situation where Roland would use his experience to overrule any argument.

“I wouldn’t know,” Stevie says eventually. “Children are not my strength. Neither are adults. I am just about capable of keeping a cactus alive and that’s only because they don’t need much attention.”

Roland, who has made his way over to the pinball machine, taps the power button experimentally and doesn’t seem to be listening.

“I still don’t think the machine’s the right fit for the motel,” Stevie says loudly, recapturing his attention and getting back to the issue at hand before the idea can cement even further in his mind.

“What? It’s a great fit!” Roland protests, looking over at her incredulously.

“Roland, we have enough that needs repairing, I don’t think we need to be adding more stuff that doesn’t work.”

“We can fix it!”

“It’ll take up too much space,” Stevie says. She starts to say something else but pauses, her eyes clearing as something occurs to her and she straightens. “You’d have to get rid of your beer fridge and the TV in the office to make room for it.”

It’s a gamble. Stevie loves having the TV to watch when she’s alone in the office and Patrick has seen her preferred bottles of beer in the fridge alongside Roland’s cans but Roland frowns and Patrick knows she’s placed the right bet.

“Well alright,” Roland says grudgingly. “But you already shot down my Leafy Luxury package idea; one of these days you’re going to have to take one of my ideas on board.”

“If you want something new for the motel, how about the shelves? You guys are getting rid of that too right?” At David's nod, Stevie continues, “We could use some more storage space now we’re growing the business, and it would fit perfectly in the corner of the back office.”

Mollified, Roland turns his attention to the bookshelf. “Yeah, okay then. As long as that rat thing doesn’t come with it. It gives me the creeps.” He points at the stuffed squirrel. “That ends up in the office, I won’t be setting foot in there.”

“Really?” Stevie says, looking at it with interest for a moment before wrinkling her nose, evidently deciding that even a Roland-less office is not enough of an incentive to take it. “Alright, fine. It’s probably cursed anyway.”

“It’s not cursed. It’s not cursed, David,” Patrick interjects quickly before his husband – or anyone else – can take this idea and run away with it. The last thing he needs is the town getting wind of that theory and offering their help in dispelling evil spirits. Twyla is wonderful but he doesn’t particularly want her holding a séance in the basement. That kind of thing has never been something Patrick believed in but at the same time, like a sleeping bear, it isn’t something he wants to mess with either.

To stop any aura of mystique or menace forming about the squirrel, he makes himself cross over to the shelves and pick up the animal (by the stand; he’s careful not to make contact with the fur.) “See? No bolt of lightning. We can just throw it out.”

When he looks up at David’s face, his husband is grimacing, looking between the object in Patrick’s hand and his face.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to wash your hands _very_ well before you touch me or any of our stuff again.”

“Sure thing,” Patrick replies. It’s an understandable response on David’s part and Patrick’s already beginning to regret picking the squirrel up at all. He knows it’s probably in his mind but it doesn’t stop his skin from feeling itchy where it’s making contact with the animal.

He steps towards the stairs, keen to get out of the house so he can get rid of it, pulling the plan for the day to the forefront of his mind as he goes.

“Okay, so David, if you want to stay here with Stevie and unload her car before going back to the motel for more? I can follow Roland to Ray’s in my car and we can get the stuff he’s storing for us there.”

When Patrick’s lease had run out, there had been a little difficulty in finding a place to store some of the larger items. The love room at the motel could only store so much and with occupancy up due to a big vintage car show in Elmdale that week, they couldn’t really take any of the other rooms for an extended period of time.

David and Patrick had been talking about the problem one afternoon in the store when Ray had come in for some supplies. Ray had overheard them and approached the counter to offer his garage as a storage space. He didn’t like to use it for his car, he explained, because he had a new advert for his photography business on the driver side door and more people could see it if he parked on the road. As a result, the garage was virtually empty and if David and Patrick wanted to borrow it, it was the least Ray could do to help his favourite ex-roommate and his husband.

They’d accepted his offer and Ray had left with a three-pack of tennis balls, a plant pot, and a clear plastic washbag, cheerfully informing the couple that they were for an upcoming engagement shoot. Patrick had briefly wondered what the planned theme for the photoshoot was but stopped because it was making his head hurt.

At least the storage problem had been solved. Even if it did take longer than anticipated to drop their things off with Ray’s questions about where everything came from and his enthusiastic insistence that they stay for dinner.

David eagerly agrees to the moving plan, his desire not to spend more time than necessary heaving large kitchen appliances around with Roland evident and Patrick and Roland head off to Ray’s, leaving David and Stevie to start unloading her car.

It’s a ten-minute drive to Ray’s, and Patrick spends it mentally calculating which items are best to go in which vehicle in between wiping the palm of his hand on his jeans to try and dispel the phantom feeling of dirt that lingers on his skin, despite having run back inside to wash his hands after throwing the squirrel away.

When he pulls up at Ray’s, Roland is already there, having managed to get through a couple of traffic signals ahead of Patrick that had switched to red when Patrick approached.

The mayor and Patrick’s former roommate are on the sidewalk waiting for him, Ray apparently showing off his new car advertisements to Roland who is casting sidelong glances at his own truck in between nods.

“I like it,” he’s saying as Patrick walks up. “Might be a good advertising strategy for the motel, think your guy could give me a good price?”

Ray nods enthusiastically as he claps his hands together in delight. “Of course! And if you need any more marketing or business tips, I’m have a whole segment dedicated to them on my podcast _._ Oh, hi, Patrick! What a wonderful day for moving into your new home!”

It’s overcast and the forecast threatens rain later but Patrick decides against pointing this out. Even if it weren’t deeply unkind to try and tamp down Ray’s boundless enthusiasm for no reason, Patrick is fully aware that any attempts would be unlikely to succeed.

Ray Butani: lifelong devotee of looking on the bright side.

“Hey, Ray. I can’t thank you enough for letting us keep our stuff over here.”

Ray waves this away. “Don’t mention it. It gave me a great idea for a new business venture: _Ray’s Storage Shack._ It’s perfect- just renting out unused space!”

“It’s a good idea, Ray,” Patrick says.

“Don’t worry, I won't charge you and David - this was a favour and it is one which has led me to my new idea but I hope I can count on you for a positive review?”

“Of course, anything we can do to help out.”

The three men start to move towards the garage, Ray pulling his key chain out of his pocket as he goes. “So how is your new home?” he asks. “If I knew you were wanting to move, I could have helped you find a place.” He sounds a little reproachful and Patrick hurries to smooth things over.

“I know and usually I would have come to you but David had always liked this place and I just took a chance and knocked on the door. If it had been a longer search, you would have been our first choice.”

Considering Ray is the only realtor in town, this is not saying a lot but it pacifies Ray, who smiles as he stops in front of the garage door and flips through the many keys on his key chain to find the right one. “Okay. Maybe next time.”

“Maybe. I’m hoping we’ll be staying put for a while though.”

“It’s a great place, Ray, you should drop by and see it,” Roland says, apparently feeling no barrier to inviting someone to a home that is not his. Ray unlocks the door and swings it open as Roland continues. “They’ve got this sweet set-up downstairs with a whole bunch of awesome stuff that they’re looking to get rid of for some reason! Give us a hand with moving all this and take a look for yourself.”

Ray claps his hands in excitement. “Oh, I would love to help! I must be honest and say I was a little surprised you hadn’t asked for my assistance earlier, Patrick. You know how experienced I am with real estate and I would love to offer my opinions.”

Patrick likes Ray, he thinks it’s impossible not to, even if his chatter and loose understanding of the concept of boundaries infringed on his early relationship with David. Ray’s positivity and lack of malice made him an easy and understanding companion when he most needed it in those first few weeks in Schitt’s Creek and Patrick instantly feels sorry for causing him to feel left out of this new chapter in his life.

“I’m sorry, Ray, I thought you’d be busy,” he tells him honestly. “If you’re free, your help would be very appreciated.”

Ray’s smile spreads even further across his face, a feat which Patrick wouldn’t have believed possible had he not seen it with his own eyes.

A little while later, the three of them have managed to manoeuvre a fridge-freezer, a washing machine, and an armchair into the bed of Roland’s truck. Patrick has loaded his trunk and backseat with several boxes of items from his apartment and has the microwave riding shotgun when he pulls out behind Roland and follows the mayor as he drives back to the cottage with Ray. They’ll have to make a couple more trips for the couch, the bed frame and some of the other bulky items but they haven’t done too badly for a first trip.

When they arrive back at the cottage, Roland pulling up just ahead of Patrick, Stevie’s car is missing. Patrick quickly checks his phone to find a message from David telling him that he and Stevie have driven back to the motel for more boxes but shouldn’t be too long.

Patrick runs up the path to unlock the door while Ray and Roland get out of the truck and makes a quick dash through the house to check their route is clear to the kitchen (a little over-cautious, maybe, but he’d hate to be carrying a refrigerator when he finds out that there were boxes in the way) before returning outside.

Between them, the three men manage to get the fridge out of the truck, up the path and into the house with only a minor hiccup when they get to the front door and have to shift their holds to allow them through the gap. It’s heavy and Patrick’s glad, in hindsight, that Ray is on board to help as it would have been so much more difficult with just him and Roland.

They’ve just finished pushing and pulling the refrigerator into place when they hear a car pulling up through the open front door. When they get back outside, Stevie’s windows are rolled up but a steady music beat is audible even through the glass and Patrick catches a glimpse of David’s laughing face as Stevie says something to him.

The sight, as always, makes Patrick’s heart jump in his chest and like a hoarder he wishes he could hear as well as see that laugh so he could store the sound of David’s happiness away. It’s made even better when David spots him through the windshield and his smile broadens instantly, the answering quirk of Patrick’s own lips instinctive and irrepressible.

He can’t imagine ever not wanting to smile at David.

Stevie turns off the engine and the music cuts off. The pair of friends climb out of the car, David sliding a box off his lap as he does so, depositing it back on the passenger seat as he turns to greet the approaching group.

“Hi Ray,” Stevie says as Patrick, drawn as if to a magnet, steps to David’s side and kisses his cheek. “You get dragged into helping too?”

“Don’t be silly, Stevie! I was delighted to offer assistance.”

Stevie gestures to the car behind her, which Patrick can now see has several boxes crammed into the back seat. “You might regret that. I do.”

“Is that the last of the stuff from the motel?” Patrick asks. As well as David’s and his clothes, there had been several boxes of linen, blankets, kitchen equipment and books they’d left in the love room, not wanting to take up more of Ray’s space than needed.

David shakes his head. “No. It’s going to take a couple more journeys.”

Patrick looks at his watch. It’s heading on for midday and there’s a long way to go yet. “Okay. How about someone helps me with the armchair and everyone else unloads mine and Stevie’s cars?”

Between the five of them, they manage to clear the bed of the truck and both cars more quickly than Patrick had anticipated, even with Roland leaving Patrick and Stevie with the washing machine half-way up the path to take a bathroom break.

They move some of the smaller boxes while they wait for Roland to return but after twenty minutes and still no sign of him, Ray steps in to help carry the machine inside. Once it’s in place, Patrick walks off to find Roland, unease rising at the sight of the empty bathroom.

After a brief search, Patrick discovers the wayward mayor downstairs in the basement, lounging in the recliner and inspecting the left behind fishing book.

At Patrick’s approach, he looks up and a wide beam crosses his face. “There you are, Pat! I have to say again, you guys are crazy for tearing apart this place.”

“It’s just not for us, Roland,” Patrick says, biting his tongue to avoid saying that _he_ wasn’t the one who disappeared without telling anyone. “But now we’re down here, we can take the bookshelf up. Your truck’s empty now and we can drop it at the motel for Stevie.”

“Sure thing,” Roland says and rubs his hands along the arm rests of the recliner, still not getting up even as Patrick walks towards the shelving unit. “Hey, were you serious about taking anything we wanted?”

“Not _anything_ ,” Patrick clarifies. “But the stuff in this room that was left behind, sure.”

“Great. Don’t mind if I take this chair then?” Roland asks. “I know Joce wouldn’t like the pinball machine but how could she say no to a chair this comfy?”

“If you want it, it’s yours,” Patrick replies, mentally ticking one more item off the list of things they need to dispose of in one way or another.

It starts a wave of luck, it seems, as Ray appears at the top of the stairs as they’re lifting the shelving unit up, keen to see where they’ve both disappeared to. Roland immediately drops the unit in favour of excitedly showing Ray around. When the offer of taking what he wants is extended to him as well, Ray immediately gravitates towards the pinball machine, pressing at the buttons experimentally.

“It doesn’t work,” Patrick warns him.

Ray waves off this objection. “I have a business acquaintance who restores these machines, I’m sure he could make it as good as new! I have been toying with the idea of adding some amusement to my photography waiting room. Who knows, perhaps I shall open my own arcade if the storage company doesn’t take off.”

With Ray on board, they carry the shelving unit upstairs first and load it into Roland’s truck before heading back downstairs with David and Stevie in tow to collect the pinball machine. The machine is much heavier than the shelves and it takes all five of them to navigate the narrow staircase, a steady stream of soft curses and grunts of effort accompanying their movements.

Patrick is leading the way, walking backwards up the steps, and they are maybe halfway up when Patrick’s heel catches on the edge of the stair. For a heart-stopping moment he can’t find his footing and his breath catches in panic, grip faltering as his fingers slip on the underside of the pinball machine. Visions of five people and a heavy arcade machine tumbling down the stairs onto the hard floor flood his brain.

From two steps down, pressed against the wall, David’s head whips round to look at him, concern flashing in his eyes and he calls out, “Stop!”

They all freeze, three pairs of eyes looking first to David before following his gaze to Patrick.

“Patrick? Are you okay?” David peers at him and shifts his hold on the machine, taking a little of the weight off Patrick.

The pause in movement has been enough for Patrick to regain his balance and he breathes out shakily through pursed lips before nodding. “Yep. Sorry.”

David is still looking at him in concern and Patrick tries to offer him a reassuring smile, although judging by David’s expression it doesn’t quite hit the mark.

“I’m fine, just missed the stair,” he says.

“Listen, really happy you’re fine, Patrick,” Stevie says from beside David. “Seriously, best news all day but this is very heavy so…”

Roland, positioned at the lower end of the machine, grunts his agreement and Patrick feels himself flush as he pulls his eyes away from David.

“Sorry, everyone. Let’s go.”

They get up the stairs without further incident, slowly edging around the difficult corners and out of the house. By the time they get to the truck, Patrick, and Patrick’s biceps, are more than happy to put the machine down in the back of Roland’s truck. The sight of David’s muscled forearms, exposed for a moment where the cuffs have ridden up, are a welcome sight and Patrick allows himself the chance to stare at his handsome husband before David catches him with a smirk.

They allow themselves a brief break to catch their breath before the five of them set off to Ray’s and the motel for the next lot of boxes.

Ray ends up riding with Patrick this time around and keeps up a steady stream of conversation, not all of which requires Patrick to take an active role so he can largely get away with the occasional nod and soft sound of agreement while Ray fills him in on his recent business ventures and developments in his life.

It is midway through a story about Bob staying in Patrick’s old room for a few nights after his and Gwen's latest attempt to rekindle their relationship failed that Ray breaks off with an excited cry loud enough to have Patrick flinching away from the noise.

“I have just helped him find a small place near the garage. Unfortunately, it is unfurnished. I have sold him my old air mattress at a _very_ reasonable price but I wonder if he would not like a nice new couch from your basement?” Ray seems excited about this idea and is already pulling out his phone halfway through speaking.

“Yeah,” Patrick says once he’s recovered from the unexpected volume increase. “You can ask him if you like. But please don’t tell him it’s new, I don’t want him to have high expectations.”

Ray scrolls through his phone and presses it to his ear. Distantly, Patrick can hear the steady ringing before it is replaced by the faint sound of Bob's voice. He can’t hear what Bob’s saying, but recognises the tone rising in excitement when Ray tells him there is a new couch he can have if he wants. Quickly Patrick raises his voice too, calling out to Bob that it isn’t new and Ray glances at Patrick in reproach before repeating his words into the speaker.

Bob seems undeterred, happy for somewhere to sit whatever condition it is in and they arrange to drop it off later that evening for him before Ray hangs up the phone.

“You shouldn’t disappoint him like that, Patrick,” Ray admonishes. “He was looking forward to a new sofa.”

Patrick thinks that it would have been far more disappointing to Bob to show up with a sofa fifteen years older than he was expecting after letting him believe it was new all day but he lets it go. At least it will be out of the house and someone else will be getting use out of it.

When they get back to the cottage with more boxes, a bedframe, mattress and Patrick’s own sofa from Ray’s garage, David and Stevie are already back, Stevie’s trunk open and half empty. No one is in sight but the front door of the house stands open and Patrick grabs a box and goes in search of his husband.

He finds David in the living room and watches his husband setting a lamp carefully on an end table before clearing his throat to announce his presence. David looks up and, seeing they’re alone for the moment, crosses the floor to curl his hands around Patrick’s shoulders and kiss him softly.

“Hey,” Patrick says fondly when they break apart a minute or two later, cheeks warm and the taste of David filling his senses. “Good news.”

“Mmm?” David murmurs and Patrick’s breath hitches when David leans down to run his lips along his heated cheek before pressing a gentle kiss just below his ear.

“Um. Yeah.” He closes his eyes as David kisses down to the hinge of his jaw.

David laughs, the sound low in Patrick’s ear. “Something you want to share with the rest of the class?”

“Sorry?”

David draws back with another chuckle and raises an amused eyebrow. “Your good news?”

“Good… oh! Yes, Bob’s going to take the sofa from downstairs. He and Gwen broke up again and he needs furniture.”

David’s brow knits in confusion. “Gwen? You know what? Never mind. The sofa’s going, that’s enough. While we’re on the subject, Ronnie called Stevie while we were at the motel about some work she’s doing in room four and Stevie told her about the basement. She wants the table - her new girlfriend is into sculpting and Ronnie wants to scavenge the wood for her.”

“Really? That’s great, is she going to come and get it or does she want it dropping off?

“Stevie’s going to take it to the motel and Ronnie will pick it up from there. It’s easier for her rather than coming out here.”

“Even better.”

David grins knowingly. “You’re just glad you don’t have to drop it off and make awkward conversation with her.”

“I don’t mind talking to Ronnie!”

He _does_ , however, mind how weird his voice goes when he lies.

“Aw,” David says. “You really don’t like when someone doesn’t like you, do you?”

“Ronnie doesn’t _not_ like me. We’re just… not close.”

“Mmhmm. Sure, honey.”

David’s smiling and Patrick rolls his eyes. “It’s all based on a misunderstanding. I’ll win her over.”

David tilts his head to the side, affection shining from his features. “Sure you will.” It sounds less sarcastic this time, like he can’t imagine Patrick failing at something and at that Patrick can’t help moving in to kiss him again.

“Hey lovebirds? You going to help or let us do all the heavy lifting?” Roland shouts from the doorway as he heads to the kitchen, interrupting them just before their lips meet again.

“Sorry,” Patrick calls as David mumbles something about it sounding like a good idea to let someone else do all the work. “We’re on our way.”

David sighs but lets Patrick grab his hand and pull him after him into the hallway and towards the front door to get some more boxes.

There’s little better to Patrick’s mind than a sense of achievement and as he observes their home come together, sees David walking around their space and carrying boxes to the correct rooms with a secret little smile on his face, his heart warms, happiness filling him up. Once or twice he catches David watching him and knows he’s feeling it too.

On the next trip out to Ray’s they drop the sofa off to a delighted Bob, who doesn’t seem to care about its age, thankful for anything to help him furnish his apartment. He also seems to have closed the garage to run home and take possession of the couch and Patrick resists the urge to gently remind him of the importance of regular business hours, not wanting to disrupt Bob’s pleased demeanour.

By late afternoon all their possessions have been gathered from where they were spread around town and have found their way to their new home. There are still boxes everywhere and it might take a few days to unpack everything between working at the store and eating and sleeping but they’ve made huge steps today towards getting their new home how they want it.

Patrick isn’t entirely sure how to dispose of neon lights so he takes the sign from the basement and stores it in the garage until he can do some research and find out where to take it. The table has been taken to the motel for Ronnie to pick up later and any other small bits and pieces that have gone unclaimed have been thrown into the garbage outside apart from the fishing book, which has vanished. Patrick suspects it has ended up finding a new home with Roland.

It’s a long day and at the end of it the five of them sit down to rest in the living room, spread out on the sofa and on chairs pulled in from around the house, boxes still piled in the corners. Too tired to cook, Patrick orders pizza and decides to dig out a bottle of wine for each of their helpers to take home. When he locates the box, it’s already been opened and two bottles are missing. He has a feeling he would find them in Stevie’s car if he went looking for them but he’s too happy to care.

The mood is light, even for how exhausted they all are and whenever Patrick looks at David (which is a lot; sue him, his husband is beautiful), he’s relaxed and smiling. Even the presence of Roland, who David has always argued makes him tense, doesn’t seem to be affecting him tonight.

After a while, Jocelyn rings to request Roland home and he leaves with Ray, offering to drop him off on his way past. Stevie stays a little longer but soon makes her way home as well and when David goes outside to see her out, Patrick clears the used glasses away into the kitchen and washes them, humming a half-tune to himself as he rinses the bubbles away.

With David and Stevie still chatting on the front porch and the glasses drying on the rack by the sink, Patrick leans back against the island in the kitchen, taking a moment to absorb the peace of their new home, contentment warming his chest. There’s still a lot of unpacking and sorting to do but it feels good to have done so much today and to know the main task of moving has been accomplished.

Leaving the kitchen, his gaze catches on the door to the basement. He glances back towards the living room but with still no sign of David coming back inside, Patrick opens the door and switches on the light before descending the steps.

It seems bigger and colder now that it’s empty and definitely in need of a deep clean, some of the corners apparently untouched by anything resembling a duster in years. It will take some work but an idea has been taking shape in Patrick’s mind since he first set foot down here with David at his heels. At first it had been just a faint prodding at his subconscious but it has been growing more substantial and insistent until he can see it clearly.

Patrick smiles to himself as he stares around the dim basement, excitement fizzing within him as he mentally superimposes his vision and decides his next step.

It is only when he hears David calling his name from the floor above that he turns and leaves, heading off to find his husband for their first night in their new home.


	3. Surprises

At his core, Patrick is a planner.

It’s something he’s always known about himself, an aspect of his personality positively reinforced throughout an entire childhood of household chore rotas, detailed family calendars and his father’s frequent assertions that “failure to prepare is preparing to fail.” Clint Brewer, himself a strong believer that a well-kept diary is an indispensable tool (as well as a lifelong fan of motivational quotes) had passed on to his son a belief that once you have a workable plan, you should waste as little time as possible putting it into action.

With that in mind, it’s understandable that the four days that pass between moving in day and the first opportunity Patrick has to sneak away from the store for an hour to start enacting it seem to crawl by.

David thinks he’s on a vendor run, off to pick up some more stock from two of their regular suppliers. It’s only half a lie. He does have an appointment to collect some more twig pencils from Catherine but Alice, having had some issues with her oven breaking the day before, had called the store to ask if they could put off her collection of chocolate shortbread until next week. She and Patrick had rearranged the pick-up and Patrick had found himself with a little free time during which David would not ask questions.

It doesn’t exactly sit comfortably to not tell David what he has in mind, but he’s only holding back until he knows it will work. Anyway, there would be no way of concealing it once the work started.

Patrick pulls up at his destination and turns off the engine, checking his phone quickly to see if David has replied to his message about having completed Catherine’s pickup. He hasn’t which, knowing David and his habit of replying to Patrick’s messages as soon as possible, probably means it’s busy at the store and Patrick feels a stab of guilt at not rushing back to help.

He debates leaving to go back and help David, but he’s here now and the sooner he sorts this out the sooner he can return to the store. Besides, who knows when he’ll get another chance to find out if this plan of his will work.

Stepping out of the car, he looks up at Jake’s workshop standing by itself at the end of this small side-road. It looks to be housed in what was once a barn, converted for its current purpose, although if that’s the case it’s unclear where the farm is that once used it for storage as the closest building is the pharmacy a couple of minutes up the road. Patrick supposes it’s useful for a woodworker not to have any immediate neighbours - it doesn’t seem like the quietest of businesses so for the sake of community relations perhaps it’s best. From Jake’s point of view, Patrick probably thinks the sizeable copse of trees to the left of the workshop also had its appeal when he chose this place. He’s heard plenty of stories from Stevie about Jake and his appreciation for al fresco activities.

Patrick heads over to the door of the barn, propped open by a small wooden footstool that he assumes is one of Jake’s own creations and hesitates, unsure as to the etiquette of entering. It’s Jake’s personal workspace, after all, not a store. On the other hand, he _does_ conduct business out of the workshop and the door is already open.

Compromising, Patrick knocks on the door, clearing his throat as he steps cautiously into the doorway. The door swings open wider under his knuckles and Patrick peers round, squinting as his eyes adjust from the bright outdoors to the more shadowy interior of the workshop.

He steps forward, looking around.

Directly ahead of Patrick is a wide workbench, a half-varnished chest of some kind sitting in its centre. Behind the worktable five or six dining chairs stand, the tall backs carved with twisting ivy and the seats upholstered in moss green fabric. There are assorted tools gathered on a long counter running along the left-hand wall as well as a stack of planks underneath it.

To the right of the door are four chairs gathered around a low coffee table, a notepad and pen sitting in the centre of the table.

None of this is what stops Patrick’s feet in their tracks and has him blinking in surprise.

That honour is reserved for the sight of David, sitting in one of the chairs and bending over an open book on his knee.

“Jake?” David calls out when he hears the door open. “What do you think about-?” David looks up then and breaks off, shock widening his eyes as he sees Patrick standing motionless and staring at him.

“Patrick?” David rises from the seat, the book falling to the floor where it lands open at his feet. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello, David,” Patrick says inanely because he has no idea what the hell is going on or what else to say. He blinks again, confusion clogging his brain.

David being here is one of the absolute last things he expected to see when he came in and it seems David is no clearer about the situation. His eyebrows are drawn together as he stares at Patrick.

“I... I thought you were at the store,” Patrick says when his brain starts to process things again.

“Um. No. Stevie’s watching it.”

Patrick nods like this makes perfect sense. “Okay.”

“Didn’t she tell you I was here?”

“I haven’t seen her. Was she supposed to tell me you were here?”

“No. But...” David frowns. “Weren’t you on a vendor run?” He bends down to snatch his phone off the table and unlocks it, reading. “You told me you were on a vendor run. See: _One pick up done, one to go. How’s store?_ ”

Patrick cringes, embarrassment clawing at his stomach at being caught in a lie. David’s eyes are bewildered when he looks up at Patrick but it’s the hurt outlined in the pinch of his lips that knocks the breath from Patrick’s lungs.

“I... I’m sorry, David. I did collect some stock from Catherine but Alice cancelled and I had this idea to do something nice for you and...” he pauses. “You aren’t where you said you were either.”

David flushes as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I... I didn’t say I was watching the store.”

“You didn’t answer my message,” Patrick says slowly. “So you wouldn’t have to answer the question.”

David nods and looks down, breaking eye contact with Patrick. He finally notices the book that has fallen to the floor and bends to retrieve it, brushing dust off its cover as he straightens. Patrick can now see it’s a ring binder rather than a book, filled with plastic wallets containing pictures of wooden furniture.

“Why _are_ you here, David?” he asks softly, watching David’s fingers as they smooth over the pages in the binder.

David looks up, a wry twist to his mouth as he meets Patrick’s eye. “Wanted to do something nice for you. First chance I’ve had to get away this week.”

Patrick can’t help the laugh that startles out of him at their similar thought process, despite the many questions that still nag at him.

Towards the back of the workshop a door that Patrick had not spotted earlier opens and Jake walks out carrying two mugs, steam rising gently out of each. Before Jake kicks it shut, Patrick can see the door leads to a small kitchenette. Beside the kitchen is another door, slightly ajar, leading off to a bathroom and beside that a third closed door.

When Jake looks up his handsome face registers some surprise at seeing Patrick for maybe half a second before his instincts take over and a smile tugs at his lips. He continues walking towards them, keen eyes darting between Patrick and David and even through his lingering confusion, Patrick can see the interest there. It’s flattering to know that this attractive man is drawn to him, is drawn to them _both_ and Patrick knows there’s definitely the possibility that they’ll revisit the whiskey conversation further down the road.

But not right now. Not when he’s come here to arrange a surprise for his husband, been blindsided by said husband and is still unsure about what exactly is happening.

“Hey,” Jake says, smooth and unruffled as always. He sets the mugs of coffee down on the table, reaches out and squeezes Patrick’s left bicep in greeting. Patrick supposes it’s a little more professional than leaning in for a kiss but still not a business model they’ll be adopting for the store. “David didn’t say you’d be joining us.”

“I didn’t know he was coming,” David protests at the same time Patrick says, “This wasn’t planned.”

Jake looks over at David, who sucks his lips into his mouth and carefully puts the binder he is still holding down on the coffee table. He clears his throat and starts fiddling with his rings, nervously spinning the one on his index finger round and round. Patrick’s gaze falls to his strong, beautiful hands and feels a rush of affection at the sight, as well as the urge to reach out and still him, to cover David's hands with his own and soothe his anxiety.

Understanding is starting to creep in, and a quick glance at the binder on the table, Jake’s name now clearly visible on the front, further cements his suspicions.

There’s an intake of breath from Jake as if he is about to speak but Patrick cuts across him.

“Could I just have a minute with David, Jake? We’ll step outside.”

“Take your time,” Jake replies easily. “I’ll be here. Should I get you a coffee, Patrick?”

“Tea if you have it?”

“Sure. Sugar?

“Two, please.”

“No problem.”

Jake turns away and heads off back towards the kitchenette, leaving Patrick alone with his husband. Patrick takes a step back, tilting his head towards the door. Jake has disappeared into the kitchen but Patrick doesn’t know how long he’s going to be gone and he wants to talk to David without risk of interruption.

David edges his way out from behind the coffee table and walks out ahead of Patrick, still fidgeting with his rings and eyes darting to the left and right without meeting Patrick’s gaze.

The moment they’re outside, David hasn’t had chance to turn around before Patrick is giving in to his desire to be close to him. He steps up behind David, curling his arms around his warm waist and hugs him from behind, kissing his shoulder through his sweater before resting his cheek against his left shoulder blade and squeezing his middle firmly.

David’s hands come hesitantly to Patrick’s forearms where they rest over David’s stomach, gentle fingers stroking along the exposed skin below Patrick’s rolled up sleeves.

“Um. What’s this for?” he asks when Patrick turns his face to kiss his back again.

“Because I love you,” Patrick replies simply. “And because I think we’re here for the same thing.”

David jerks in his arms and, with a soft laugh, Patrick loosens his hold just enough to let David turn around.

David looks down at him, still with a little uncertainty in his expression and Patrick leans in to kiss it away.

The kiss seems to do the trick of easing the last of David’s worries. His hands find their customary position on Patrick’s shoulders, rubbing along the muscles there as their lips part and his expression relaxes.

“The secret’s out then?”

“It’s the basement, right?” Patrick asks and David hums in agreement.

“I had an idea. Something you might like,” David says.

“Great minds,” Patrick notes with a light laugh.

“You’re very happy for someone whose surprise was ruined,” David tells him but he’s grinning too, the sight of Patrick’s happiness prompting his own. Patrick knows because he feels exactly the same way when he sees David’s smile.

“There'll be other surprises. And it’s good to think… I wanted to do something to make you happy because I love you,” Patrick says. “And you wanted to do the same because you love me.”

David clenches his eyes shut then, tilting his head back like he does when something threatens to overwhelm him and Patrick leans in to kiss his neck gently, holding David close until he collects himself.

“Alright?” Patrick asks when he feels some of the tension leaving David’s frame.

“Mmm,” David murmurs. His hands start a leisurely stroking motion up and down Patrick’s back and he asks quietly, “So what was your plan?”

“Hmm?” The slow movements over his back are very distracting and he barely resists the urge to arch his back into them like a cat.

“What was the big surprise, Patrick?” David asks, a laugh lurking in his tone. “Why come to Jake?”

Patrick’s brain snaps back online and he pulls away from the tantalising scent of David’s neck, David’s hands stilling on his back as he straightens. “Oh! I was thinking about a walk-in wardrobe? I thought you’d appreciate having a little more space for all the clothes from the motel. We could customise it so you could display them the way you want.”

He looks at David anxiously, trying to read his reaction in his face. David blinks as he absorbs Patrick’s words and a pleased smile spreads across his features, loosening the small knot of anxiety that had begun to form the longer David didn’t react.

“That’s… I love that you thought of that for me,” David says and Patrick beams at him. “Doesn’t seem fair for you though.”

“I promised I’d make you happy in that house,” Patrick says. “I want to do it for you.”

David’s lips twist to the left, delight shining in his eyes. “You do make me happy. And I am absolutely going to insist on a custom-built wardrobe now you’ve suggested it. It would be good to give my pieces the space they need after they’ve been shut away in that interior designer’s nightmare at the motel.”

“Damn. Didn’t know you felt that way about the Love Room. Better cancel the heart-shaped bed I ordered then.”

“In case you aren’t joking, yes, yes you should.” David pauses, eyes raking over Patrick’s face as he grows serious. He starts chewing on the corner of his lower lip and Patrick feels a creeping apprehension.

“What is it? I can feel the ‘but’ coming. You hate it?”

“No! You can’t take it back now, I want somewhere decent for my knits, the chest Mutt and I built isn’t big enough. It’s just... They should really be somewhere air can circulate?” He winces, worried eyes scanning Patrick’s face for signs of him being offended but Patrick just nods in agreement. Thinking about it, maybe he should have considered that, if only he hadn’t been so swept up in this plan.

When Patrick doesn’t immediately storm off, David continues, “And maybe it should be somewhere closer to the bedroom, so we can get to it more easily.”

“The little bedroom across from ours?” Patrick muses out loud. That would still leave them one extra room, the larger of the two spares the house came with for when either set of parents or Alexis comes to visit.

“That would work,” David says, relief evident on his face now he knows Patrick isn’t upset and the promise of a custom-built wardrobe has not been rescinded.

“So what _are_ we going to do with the basement then? What was your plan?”

“A home office? You got so stressed last time taxes were due and were complaining about not enough space so I thought a fancy desk with all those little pigeonholes and plenty of drawers...”

Patrick can see exactly what David’s talking about in his mind’s eye. One of his uncles on his father’s side, who apparently had also inherited the Brewer fondness for orderliness, had had something similar in his home when Patrick was a kid, a behemoth of a desk which managed to look practical as well as elegant, all clean lines and edges. Patrick had been in awe of the size and secret corners and his uncle had indulged him, hiding sweets and pennies in one of the drawers or far back in a pigeonhole and timing him to see how long it took his nephew to uncover them all.

So yes, he can see it all so clearly and it’s sweet and thoughtful and romantic precisely because it _wouldn’t_ be romantic to so many people. But David knows him and David accepts him and David doesn’t look askance at him when he starts getting excited about a new range of highlighters he’s spotted online. Quite the opposite, David looks at him in those moments like he’s unbearably charming and invariably ends up drawing him in for a kiss.

Still, as much as Patrick would _love_ a desk like that, it’s… not quite right. He can’t picture it in the basement and it takes him a few seconds to pinpoint why.

David is eying him nervously and his mouth contorts when Patrick’s buffering face continues slightly too long. “Oh God. Now _you_ hate it.”

“Definitely not,” Patrick corrects him. “That desk is a realisation of a childhood dream.”

“A _childhood_ dream?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know I was always into office supplies. Remind me to tell you about Uncle Alan’s desk one day. Anyway,” he says when David’s face starts to twist into that ‘my-husband-is-adorable’ look again, forcing himself on through his explanation so they don’t just end up making out in front of Jake’s workshop. “I don’t think I’d be able to work well in a windowless room underground. Natural light helps improve health and productivity but maybe we could get it for the back room at the store? We could get rid of the old one with the too-short leg,” Patrick finishes hopefully because he really does want that desk.

David’s eyes light up. “Would that be a write-off?”

Caught off-guard, Patrick bursts out laughing. He’s heard all about David’s previous attempts to write off purchases for the Blouse Barn from Stevie and, while he found David’s misunderstanding charming, what is more enchanting is David’s determination after all these years to finally work out what a write-off actually is.

“I’ll look into it,” Patrick promises and leans in to kiss David.

What can he say? Determination is sexy.

David is the first to pull away and he casts a glance over Patrick’s shoulder at the workshop. “As much fun as this is, I think we should probably…”

“Yes,” Patrick agrees. There’s little risk of Jake coming out to interrupt them; reading social cues seems to come more naturally to him than to Ray and Patrick’s certain he picked up on the tension between him and David. It does feel rude to keep him waiting much longer, however.

They head back inside together to find Jake absorbed in brushing varnish onto the half-finished chest on the bench. He looks up when the two of them enter and carefully sets his brush down on the lid of the tin which stands sticky side up beside the open tin. He straightens and grabs a rag from the corner of the bench, wiping his hands of any excess varnish as he rounds the workbench to walk towards them.

“Ready?” he asks and nods towards the table. “Tea’s there.”

They sit down together and Patrick leans over to pick up his mug as they settle into their seats. He lets David give a faltering explanation for their separate plans leading them here as he sips at the tea experimentally. It’s still a little too hot so he softly blows across the surface of the liquid before setting it back on the table.

Jake nods along as David speaks and reaches out to pick up his notepad, setting it on his knee. Patrick watches with interest as he flips to a new page. This is a side to Jake he hadn’t really considered and while it doesn’t come as a surprise exactly - Jake has a successful business and has been making a living through his craft for who knows how long - it’s still fascinating to witness.

Jake points out the section in the binder that features the desks he’s made and Patrick leans into David as they study the images.

None of them are quite right and Patrick tries to describe the desk his uncle once owned as an example of the kind of thing they’re looking for but it’s harder than he thought. It’s been many years since he saw that desk and human memory is imperfect; the more he tries to recall, the less clear the image becomes and doubt starts to creep in.

When he breaks off for a third time in frustration, David gently rests a hand on his forearm.

“Can I show you what I was thinking?” he asks and when Patrick agrees he turns to Jake. “Can I borrow some paper?”

Jake hands him a sheet of paper and a pen and there’s a couple of minutes where they watch in silence as David draws deft lines and angles across the page, confident and capable as he transfers his thoughts expertly to the page. It’s a wonderful thing to watch and the emerging image matches what Patrick was imagining too.

When he’s finished he shows it first to Patrick, waiting for Patrick’s pleased nod before handing it back to Jake to inspect.

“Yeah, I can do this,” Jake says after a moment. “Not a problem.” He tucks the drawing away in his pad and jots something down on a separate page before looking back up at them. “So you wanted a wardrobe as well?”

The wardrobe issue is much easier to explain; Jake doesn’t wait to be asked to hand David another sheet of paper and David himself has plenty of ideas. They don’t know the dimensions of the spare bedroom off by heart but Patrick promises they’ll measure it as soon as they get home and send it over to Jake so he can put together a preliminary quote for the work.

Patrick has the binder open on his knee, flipping through the pages and admiring Jake’s workmanship when David’s phone buzzes loudly from where he’s put it down on the table.

He barely notices David pick it up, caught up in examining a beautiful bookshelf and only looking up when he hears David inhale sharply before cursing under his breath. With lightning-fast fingers David types something out before standing up.

“Sorry. We have to get back to the store. I told Stevie I’d be back ten minutes ago.”

Patrick looks at his watch and it’s his turn to swear when he sees how much time has passed. He rises too, replacing the binder on the table while promising again to send Jake the measurements as soon as he can.

Jake, easy-going as ever, shrugs and leisurely gets to his feet as well to see them out. With a last off-hand comment for them to call if they ever want to get together (his seductive smile makes it clear what he has in mind, even if the words themselves are delivered so casually that he might have simply been informing them that it was raining outside) he turns back to his work bench and David and Patrick head outside.

Back outside, Patrick spots what he missed before - Stevie’s car partially hidden behind Jake’s larger truck, parked to the right of the workshop. His own vehicle is to the left and with a quick kiss goodbye he and David hurry off to their separate cars to drive back to the store, spurred on by the frequent sound of text chimes emerging from David’s phone.

Stevie has clearly decided that the best way to hasten David’s return is to annoy him with relentless messages. As plans go it isn’t a bad one - David usually has his phone in arm’s reach and can rarely resist the siren call of a text message, becoming agitated if there are too many icons clogging up his notification bar.

They arrive back to an empty store but an impatient Stevie, who barely pauses to grab an unoffered bottle of wine on her way out of the door as payment for their lateness before she heads off to see what Roland has been up to at the motel in her absence.

There’s a steady stream of customers all afternoon. Patrick grabs the products he’d picked up that morning from his car and there’s plenty of time to update their stock spreadsheet, tidy the shelves and clear the email inbox in between serving customers.

It isn’t until they’re on their way home that something occurs to Patrick.

“What _are_ we going to do with the basement?”

David has been staring out of the window while they drove along in comfortable silence, head lolling back against the headrest as he watches the trees move past outside. At the sound of Patrick’s voice, he looks over and Patrick glances at his thoughtful face quickly before returning his eyes to the road.

“I don’t know. I think it has to be something for both of us.”

Patrick murmurs his agreement, searching for ideas as they both lapse back into contemplative quiet.

“I was thinking... How about we make it a relaxation space? Not for work or storage but use it for things we enjoy. An area for you to play music maybe, a quiet corner to read and a games zone for when Stevie or Alexis are in town and we want to host a games night?”

Hearing David say it, it sounds perfect. Something that is a mixture of each of them that they can enjoy both separately and as a couple. But old habits die hard and he still can’t fend off the urge to tease David.

“So what you’re is saying Roland had the right idea?”

“ _Excuse me_? I never said that,” David says, affronted. Patrick wishes he weren’t driving so he could see the look on David’s face.

“You’re suggesting a rec room. Roland said it too, remember? Somewhere the community could come and relax under the fluorescent neon sign…”

“No. No, no, no, absolutely not,” David protests instantly. “It is not the _community’s_ rec room to drop in and use _._ It is _our_ civilised games-slash-relaxation room that members of the community may enter by prior invitation _only_ for the purpose of taking part in game nights.”

“Ah, got it. Does that mean the neon sign is still a no go?” He tries to inject disappointment into his tone but even he can hear the laughter in his voice.

“Do you want me to revoke _your_ invitation?” David’s tone is smiling too, his words affectionate rather than sharp.

“No, thank you.”

“Then we will never mention that sign again.”

“I mean, I still need to work out how to get rid of it.”

They’re only a couple of minutes from home now and Patrick flips on the turn signal, preparing to make the familiar turn.

“Smash it to pieces with a giant hammer? It’d be good stress relief for you and, as a bonus, I could watch.” David’s hand comes up to rest on Patrick’s bicep, stroking down the muscle. “I think we’d both enjoy it.”

“You want to see me in a tank top, all you have to do is ask.”

“I want to see you in a tank top,” David says immediately and his fingers squeeze around Patrick’s bicep.

“I think that can be arranged,” Patrick says and releases the steering wheel briefly to pat David’s knee before returning his hand to the wheel. “Fairly sure a massive pile of broken glass and wire on the driveway is at least as big a problem as the sign though. Probably harder to move as well.”

“I know. Just trying to think of ways that monstrosity can never inflict its harm on any other living thing.”

“Very altruistic of you, David.”

“And if my husband gets all sweaty and shows off his muscles in the meantime, well…”

They’re home, and Patrick pulls into the driveway, the sight of the house still novel enough to send a thrill through him. David seems to feel it too and they both lapse into silence as Patrick rolls to a stop and switches off the engine.

David’s hand is still on his arm and he squeezes it fondly as he gazes through the windshield at their home.

Unfortunately, it isn’t long before the nagging call of work to be done beckons.

“Come on,” Patrick says. “I’ll put something in the oven and we can unpack the last of the living room boxes while it cooks.”

They head in and, after putting the chicken in the oven, Patrick joins David in the living room just as he’s folding down a box.

David is absorbed in his task and doesn’t turn when he hears Patrick enter but starts speaking as though they were halfway through a conversation.

“If we’re going to do it, we’re going to do it right,” he says over his shoulder.

“Sorry?” Patrick says. “Do what?”

“The basement. I was thinking it probably hasn’t had anything done to it in about twenty years. At the very least I’d like to get the floors cleaned and the walls re-plastered before we paint them.”

He turns then, heading over to where Patrick has opened another box of books.

“That should be fine,” Patrick replies, mentally checking their budget as he pulls out his worn copy of ‘ _The Firm_ ’ to add to the pile in his arms before heading over to the half-full bookshelf. “We have enough with our savings and the wedding money to do it properly.”

“Great. And then we can look at furniture. A games table? Big enough to seat six. And a more comfortable seating area with a space for someone to stand when it’s their turn for Charades.”

“Sounds good. A music system as well?”

David nods as he joins him at the bookshelf. “Yes. Atmosphere is important for games nights. We want to set the right tone.”

“I was thinking more of setting the right tone for after everyone has left and I have you alone in that comfortable seating area.” Patrick puts the last of his books on the shelf and turns to lean his shoulder against it, watching David as he, too, starts adding books to their collection. He’s close enough to smell David’s cologne and the warmth that spreads through him at the aroma is almost Pavlovian. “I have all kinds of plans for you there.”

David visibly fights a smile but Patrick sees the dimple in the corner of his mouth forming as his lips fight against it. Patrick wants to kiss that small hollow, just to let David knows he sees it before moving over to kiss his lips.

“Just so you know, sex on the new furniture will have to be pre-negotiated.”

“I’m pre-negotiating it _now._ ” He’s aware he sounds petulant as David gives him an amused look.

“You really want to fuck on a couch in a basement like teenagers praying our parents don’t walk in? Our big comfy bed is just upstairs.”

David finishes putting the last book away and mirrors Patrick’s pose, leaning on the shelf opposite him. In this position Patrick is reminded of the height advantage David has and a shiver runs through him as he pictures David moving towards him, pushing him back towards the shelf and leaning down towards him...

David raises an eyebrow at him, waiting for a response and Patrick shakes himself out of his daydream, silently promising himself to revisit that fantasy at a later date. After all, they have years ahead of them.

“I know. But after so long spent worrying Ray or your parents and sister were going to catch us, it’s nice to not have to think about that. Even in my apartment, we had to be careful Mrs Lennox didn’t overhear through the wall. Not saying sex all over the house is like a checklist item I want to tick off but I’m looking forward to being able to do it wherever we want in our new home without having to stop and move somewhere more private.”

Throughout his speech David’s keen eyes have been roving over Patrick’s face, his expression a mixture of naked adoration and surfacing desire as he listens to Patrick speak about this benefit of their new home. As Patrick finishes, David at last leans in to kiss him and it looks as if Patrick’s bookshelf fantasy might be coming true faster than he thought.

But David keeps it frustratingly brief, persisting in pulling away even as Patrick curls a hand around his neck and attempts to draw their mouths back together.

“Okay, okay, how about we ask Ronnie to plan for a decent sized couch?”

“Ronnie?”

Effectively snapped out of it, Patrick stops trying to recapture David’s lips. Nothing helps dissipate a mood faster than a reminder of a woman who once asked him what he’d done to upset the barber after he’d had his hair cut a little shorter than usual.

“She’s the best contractor in the area,” David tells him and Patrick, still nursing the vague hope they might be able to get in a make out session before dinner, refrains from pointing out that this might have a lot to do with her being pretty much the _only_ contractor in the area. David already knows how few others there are; they’d looked around when they were having the store remodelled and being pedantic about wording at this point is not the way to get David to kiss him again.

“I think we should ask her to look at the walls and floor, see what she can do,” David continues. “If we tell her what we have planned she might have ideas about layout. Perhaps we could put a partition wall up to separate areas and make it seem more ordered.”

“I guess that could be nice for the acoustics when I’m playing. It’s easier to heat smaller spaces too.”

There’s that look again. The one that tells Patrick he’s just said something David finds both odd and adorable. He can’t say he minds it. There are times he feels the same about some of the things that David says.

“So you agree we should call her then?”

Patrick hesitates, considering. Ronnie is _very_ good at her job but he gets so flustered around her, always saying the wrong thing. Can he keep from embarrassing himself again in close quarters, with her in his space day after day?

David reads his doubts on his face. “Don’t worry, I’ll make the phone call and I won’t leave you alone with her.”

The instant wave of relief that hits him at David’s offer is unexpected and only serves to make Patrick annoyed at himself. It’s time he moved past this.

“I’m an adult, I can be alone with her. I won’t let her get to me, whatever she says.”

“Mmkay, that’s a good attitude to have but I’m more worried about you putting your foot in it again and her getting offended. We can’t have her leaving the basement unfinished.” David straightens up to pull his phone from his pocket and unlocks it, scrolling through his contacts.

“I don’t think she would leave us like that. She likes you too much.”

David looks up from his phone. “Shall we ask her then?”

Patrick nods. “You’re right. She is the best. And maybe it would be good for me and her to have the chance to resolve our issues while she’s here.”

David smiles. “Not sure how easy that will be but I’m proud of you for trying. I’ll ask her if she can come by this weekend to have a look?”

“Sure. Maybe Sunday evening if she’s free. That way we can both be here rather than one of us staying at the store.”

David lifts the phone to his ear and walks over to sit down on the couch as it rings. Patrick watches him pick an invisible piece of fluff from his thigh before he looks up, catches Patrick’s eye and smiles.

Realising it’s past time to go and check the chicken and prepare the vegetables to go with it, Patrick heads back to the kitchen, squeezing David’s shoulder as he goes.

He’s still disappointed they didn’t get a chance to cuddle up together on the couch or make out against the bookshelf before dinner but it’s fine.

They have plenty of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading if you're still with me! I hope you liked it.  
> Thanks to the person who supplied this prompt - I really enjoyed writing for it.


End file.
